


Judge, Jury, Executioner

by thewingedoctopus



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse, American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: F/F, It's blooming foxxay love in the making, Multiple chapters y'all idk how many yet, in the backdrop of a war in supremacy that no one wants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-06-25 12:56:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19746187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewingedoctopus/pseuds/thewingedoctopus
Summary: Cordelia Goode is painfully aware of her (im)mortality but she wants to do this Supremacy right by her Coven, even if it means her time comes early. She'll meet and vet the boy too powerful for his own good with her Council and Misty Day. She wants, she will, keep the peace. Every witch has their place.Multiple chapters.(Eventual Foxxay)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is set after Coven, but as if Apocalypse had not happened. Michael is a simple, much too powerful, ward at Hawthorne's, a lost sheep in a sea of confusion. 
> 
> Author's thoughts at the end!

The young man knew he was staring but he couldn’t stop himself from doing so. His piercing blue eyes, usually gazing down at his peers from his sharp nose, were now glancing quickly and nervously between his hands in his lap and the woman across from him. He wanted to uphold the blonde’s own gaze but found he couldn’t do so continuously: he was stunned, so much so that he knew she’d noticed his nervous tick. His goddamned dodgy eyes. He willed for his fingers to stop shaking, curling them into fists against his knees, but her dreaded question came anyway. 

“Are you alright?”

He glanced up furtively and fought to swallow the lump in his throat. 

Finally, he smiled his boyish smile. “Could you just repeat yourself?” 

The woman sat back in her chair, uncrossing and crossing her legs beneath the oak desk. If he hadn’t been so frightened himself, he’d have thought she was nervous. He shook the silly thought away. She couldn’t be.

“If this is too much for you Michael, you can say so,” she soothed. “There’s no shame in being overwhelmed.”

He bristled slightly. “I’m not.”

Cordelia Goode smiled warmly and he finally relaxed, lulled into a sense of security by her white light of a grin. He wondered if it was a trick her Supremacy gave her access to, a mind game played by the most powerful of witches, but his thoughts stilled as the blonde repeated herself, her upturned lips falling as she became serious again. “Your professors and I have agreed, Mr. Langdon, Hawthorne has exceeded themselves with you, and you’ve exceeded them, and their expectations. There’s nothing they can do for you anymore.”

“I still don’t understand. I heard you the first time but-” He straightened quickly, panic making his heart skip a dangerous beat. He could feel his breath becoming ragged. “Are they-Wait- Are you kicking me out? Out of the school?” His knuckles were white on the chair’s arms as he pulled himself to its edge, grabbing the desk now. The words were crashing out of his mouth, into his lap and onto the wooden floors, as if he was retching his feelings at the Supreme’s feet. “Miss Goode, ma’am, I have nowhere to go, please I can’t- I haven’t even graduated! I-“

“Let her finish.”

The soft voice, a drawl from deep down the bayou river bend, came from behind him and he turned abruptly, scared by the cutting figure he’d forgotten was leaning against one of the file cabinets in the corner of the room, though Misty Day was far from in the shadows. Almost as if backlit by her own aura she shone in his peripheral view. She leveled her sea foam gaze with his own icy one and he calmed himself, biting back a sob threatening to escape and dot his ego and vision like the tears already were. A necromancer, he suddenly knew. Reviving his old hopes and dreams, weeding the fear away. He turned back to the Supreme, grasp on the wood softening as he did. 

“I’d like to offer you a position here, Michael, there never was and never will be talks of kicking you out,” Cordelia said. She reached towards him and took his hand in hers, soft and warm. He relaxed. “You’ve exceeded their teachings, yes, but only because you’re so much more than any other warlock we’ve, well, ever had or known, I think.” The woman’s black gaze flitted to Misty, but Michael couldn’t see the younger blonde’s response, too enamored with the Supreme’s skin against his own. “What do you say?” she asked. “Would you like to join the Academy? I know it would be a little unconventional, for everyone involved, but we can’t let such talent-“

“Yes.” 

Cordelia blinked, surprised at the sudden confidence in his voice, but she quickly smiled and patted the back of his hand reassuringly. She let go and he swallowed thickly, wishing she hadn’t, but whatever spell she had on him wasn’t broken. He wondered now if this was simply what power was, what the Supremacy meant. More than radiant health, more than mastery over the seven wonders, but also a calmness and warmth that commanded the room. He waded in the feeling, falling back in his chair with a clipped sigh. He almost wanted to laugh at his outburst of emotion, here in front of this woman, but the fear was still lingering in his ears and he found he couldn’t. 

“I had our majordomo prepare you a room in the attic, I hope you don’t mind. There will be a car to pick you and your belongings up from the school on Friday morning.” She stood and he followed suit. “Welcome to the Academy, Mr. Langdon.”

They shook hands and he could feel the rawness of her again. 

It was a rawness that Cordelia herself felt tingle in between her fingers still as he left her office, almost as if in a daze. Even as he left the property. 

The Supreme fell back into the chair where he’d been sitting previously, suddenly too overcome to make it back to her own place behind the desk that had housed so many before her, and she accepted the fingers at the nape of her neck almost with a purr, short nails scratching circles into her skin. 

“He’s somethin’ alright,” Misty drawled softly. 

“You felt it too,” Cordelia mused back, barely over a whisper. She upturned her gaze to look at the necromancer, the swamp witch having pushed off her wall and slinked to her side. “Didn’t you?” When Misty didn’t respond, the older of the two turned to face the younger, fingers closing around the fabric of the girl’s dangling shawl, and Misty’s arms fell limply to her sides. 

“What?” Cordelia asked.

Misty sighed. “I don’t know what I felt, Delia. He’s torn up on the inside, his professors were right about that. I know I agreed we should keep an eye on the kid, but you didn’t tell him that’s what we’re fixin’ to doin’.”

Cordelia bit her lip. “I didn’t want to scare him anymore than he already was. He was pushed into a train first thing this morning and then straight into the Supreme’s office as soon as he stepped foot in Louisiana. I can’t help but think I frightened him.”

“Oh, Delia.”

“He’ll meet the council this weekend, we’ll welcome him and introduce him properly then, and the girls can tell me what they think. What we should do.” The woman’s voice lowered, trembling. “If he’s the next Supreme, we need to know.” Misty stiffened in her grasp.

“He might not be.”

“He might not,” Cordelia agreed. “But he could be. And if he isn’t, even if, he’s much too powerful to let graduate from Hawthorne. You know they can’t handle him. He has his place here. Just like every other witch.” 

The necromancer nodded. She had agreed to this weeks before, after all, just like the rest of the council. She raised the Supreme’s hand up to her lips and placed a chaste kiss on its back, token of her affection towards her bestest of friends, and she walked to the door, Cordelia gazing after her. She parted the white curtains that separated the office’s glass windows from the front of the colonial style mansion, peering into the hallway. 

After a long moment, Misty finally turned. 

“Don’t you think he’s too young?”

Cordelia took her time to respond, black eyes trained on the dying sunlight outside as she worried her bottom lip. She had heard the sadness in the younger woman’s voice that came with the question. 

The necromancer had declined to be a member of the Coven’s council upon her third rebirth. It was a spot that Cordelia had immediately reserved for her if she had ever been to come back from her death and disappearance into the netherworld, almost like postmortem honors. The Supreme had sure acted like she was a reigning member of her House. Though the necromancer’s ashes had been strewn and torn apart in the wind that one afternoon when the Supreme had opened the lidded urn to the heavens, the ghost of Misty Day in her head whispered her imagined convictions and the swamp witch had always had her place and judgement in Cordelia’s musings, kept awake by the strongest witch.

Now, alive and blush tainting her cheeks in swatches of peach and pink, the younger blonde chose instead to keep an eye on the Supreme and the girls within their halls, almost a caretaker, almost the heavy muscle to their centuries old establishment, definitely their guardian angel like Cordelia suspected her to be. Misty knew the council still took her words into consideration and she seemed to like it that way: unburdened by the title of responsibility and what her thoughts could potentially convey into actions, she was free to express herself within the council chambers adjacent to the greenhouse. It was in this fashion she spoke now to Cordelia. Ever changing from vulture at her shoulder to wise owl at her door, knuckled talons tight around the knob. 

Cordelia shook her head softly, suddenly saddened too. 

“Weren’t we all once?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kind reviews y'all have left, it made me so happy to read and definitely made me want to keep writing <3

If Zoe Benson, first member of the Council of her House, was the most level-headed of her Coven premieres, if she was the voice of reason and rational thoughts and the figurative successor to Myrtle Snow, she was unintentionally and ironically the quickest to panic. It was to Queenie instead that fell the title of strongest resolve, pillar of her community and voice of all that came to their domain. Tituba’s daughter’s words fell on the opposite end of the scale to the black widow’s: two women equal in status but undecided in their collective opinion. Madison Montgomery, failed and favored actress, rarely voiced an opinion unless it was to make a motion and move on her vote, though she did the talking for them all. Vapid and quick and dry but never wrong, her wit held truth even if it was spoken out of turn. 

It was the telekinetic that spoke now, voice like a striking viper. 

“I don’t like him.”

Zoe didn’t bother glancing up from her phone. “You don’t like anyone.” Madison scoffed from where she was at the window, parting the curtains giving into the courtyard a little farther. 

“Look at him, prancing out there like a peacock.”

“It’s just a passing fad. This is a girl’s school, of course a boy is going to rattle the ranks,” Queenie gruffed back. 

“Guess we can’t all be lesbians,” Madison muttered.

It was silent for a moment until the Supreme coughed politely, standing there in the doorway and clad in a black cape that hugged her small figure. The actress glanced furtively at her. If it had been anyone else shame would already have been running a red line from collarbone to ears but this was Madison, and the dirty blonde simply let herself into one of the empty chairs at the table, leaving the curtain to fall back against the window. 

“Good morning, my sweet Council.” 

The three chorused back and Cordelia took a seat at the head of the table, interlacing her slim fingers together as she let her black gaze travel over them. Her eyes finally landed on Madison. 

“Now that you’ve met Mr. Langdon, I wish to know what your first thoughts are. Know that by my decision he has already been integrated into this academy and this meeting is not about his attendance here but the extent of his talents and his potential ascent to-“ Cordelia paused, voice dying out. She cleared her throat, closing her eyes momentarily. “You don’t like him?”

Madison shrugged but it was Queenie who spoke. “With all due respect, we’re not here to decide on who’s going to braid his hair.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Cordelia offered. She sat up straighter and smiled almost hopefully. “So?”

“There’s something about him,” Zoe said. “I can’t quite put my finger on it, but then again he’s a man. I might not be as adept to reading him as I might another woman.” The Supreme nodded knowingly.

“Hawthorne taught him well, that’s for sure,” Queenie replied. “He’s certainly very aware of his surroundings, and he definitely knows more than he lets on. Like this is a game for him.”

“Which is why I don’t like him,” the telekinetic muttered. “But he has no idea he’s here for your title.” She looked away when Cordelia bristled. 

Misty suddenly crossed into the room silently, closing the wooden door behind her and sitting in the chair besides the Supreme, passing a hand over the older woman’s shoulder as she did so. “’M sorry I’m late.”

“Don’t be,” Cordelia murmured back. “You know why we’re here.”

The necromancer glanced at the girls. “He’s quite the energizer bunny, ain’t he?”

“I think we can all agree there’s something about him. Is it possible it’s the same feeling you girls had about each other when Fiona was dying? Can we agree on that?”

Her Council shared looks, biting lips and tapping feet on the floor beneath them. 

“Why the hell are you looking for a successor, Cordelia?” Madison’s shoulders lifted and fell in disbelief. “You’re not dying.”

“No, I’m not. Thank you. But I’d rather find my successor now, rather than later. I dare say we were lucky in that I came after our previous Supreme. If it had been anyone else we might not be here today to speak of it.”

“You’d like to advise our next Supreme to extend our golden age,” Zoe suggested. Cordelia nodded, smiling softly. “I’ll go out on a limb here and say that if he is to be your pupil, we’ll be asked to teach him what we know, individually. Lead him on the right path. Were we given his school transcript?”

“You wanna know what he’s already good at?” Queenie guessed. 

The Supreme shook her head. “We did receive it but I haven’t looked into it yet.”

Misty seemed to hum. “Boy’s fluent in latin.” The women looked to her, surprised. 

Zoe’s eyes grew wide. “How could you possibly know that? He just got here.”

“I was just in the greenhouse and he was suggestin’ up a storm of incantations,” the necromancer replied. Cordelia glanced at her and Misty immediately thought she looked hurt. “He heard me mutterin’ in there, he just got curious,” she added quietly. The older blonde patted her hand reassuringly. Distractingly. She spoke instead. 

“Zoe, could you possibly ask Mallory if she’s alright showing Michael around during his first few days?” When the girl nodded, she continued. “I expect my Council to take as long as they need to assess this particular situation. This is a very important task. Remember, we must do right by him, whether it is him who rises to the title of Supreme or not. You’re to report to me if any other witch or warlock piques your interest as well. Any above average talents, any peculiar ones.”

The meeting was adjourned after a few minor points. If certain weeks were peppered with ironic incidents, this first month into a cool autumn of a September was one of the easier smattering of days Cordelia had known since living with a hundred girls under a roof. It wasn’t lost on her that the boy’s arrival would throw the whole of October into an atmosphere none of them had ever known. If Kyle walked the spotless halls quietly in the dead of night, he was the total opposite of the warlock striding in sunlight. 

Misty held back as the other three filed out of the small room, talking amongst themselves. The necromancer took the Supreme’s hand in her own but said nothing as she watched her close the door easily with just a glance. It clicked with sudden finality. 

“I missed you last night,” Misty said.

Cordelia was sheepish. “I’m sorry, I fell asleep at my desk again.”

“I know you’re stressed out ‘bout this boy but your spine won’t be thankin’ you if you keep this up. You gots a bed for a reason,” the girl mused. 

“Misty, am I doing the right thing?” They were alone but the Supreme whispered anyway, leaning into the swamp witch’s side so that she could rest her chin on the taller woman’s shoulder. “I can’t help but think that they’re judging me.”

Misty wrapped her arm around the woman’s waist. “If it’s worth anythin’, Maddie’s always judgin’ everybody.” She let Cordelia laugh lightly, smiling herself. “Why are you so worried? You’re doin’ what you promised you’d be doin’, you ain’t bein’ your ma, you ain’t afraid to pass the mantle on. I think this is a neat idea, findin’ and helpin’ out the strongest. A little witch boot camp never hurt nobody, even if the recruits don’t all end up sergeants.”

“Couldn’t all this be futile? We’re not supposed to know who’s coming after me until I’m dying. Until my powers are waning,” Cordelia corrected herself softly. “But by the Goddess is this boy powerful. I can’t ignore him or leave him in the hands of the wrong person.”

“You’re answerin’ your own questions again, darlin’.” Misty tucked a stray strand of blonde hair behind her friend’s ear. “If anythin’, you’re just micromanagin’ your own succession, but that’s almost expected of ya. They’re ain’t nothing wrong in leading stray sheep to your greenest pasture.”

Cordelia smiled, blinking in slow appreciation at the carefully chosen words and she sighed as the conversation lulled to its end naturally, if not pushed along by the swamp witch. She knew talk of her death one day, especially a death so painful and sudden, upset her House. Misty most of all. 

“Do you have plans for lunch?” Cordelia asked softly.

“Usually I grab a bite or two with a certain alchemist, lemme just check with her.” The Supreme frowned as Misty suddenly pulled away to twirl on herself, shawl spinning with her, and the necromancer gave her friend a dazzling smile as she turned back to face Cordelia. “Whatcha think, think I got time to grab lunch with ya?”

The older woman began to laugh, pulling Misty in to hold her tight. “Alright, I get it. I just have to stop by the front office, I’ll meet you at the car in twenty?” 

They parted at the kitchen’s door, Misty disappearing into the outside sunshine. 

Cordelia had had a part of the back of the entry way turned into a new office as soon as she’d had the money: a new secretary’s space. It had been necessary. Once upon a time the Supreme had been the one to take the calls, the appointments, the checks and the bills. But that was when she could count their members on one hand. She knocked lightly before entering.

“God, Miss Goode, you look exhausted.”

“I wish you would all stop saying that.”

The bleach blonde shrugged. “Sorry, it’s the truth.” 

Coco St. Pierre Vanderbilt was too old to be a student, yet too inexperienced to be a Council member. She hadn’t gone through what the other women had had the misfortune of going through. She’d never known the wake of raging fire Fiona Goode left behind her; hadn’t known the extensive solitude the Academy had once known. Had never seen a blind woman corral powerful stock into one sorority as best as she could. 

But her powers were more than useful. If Cordelia was able to keep her House safe by spells and herbs, Coco kept initial danger at bay by smell alone. Cordelia had been more than happy to employ the woman as the face of the front office. She had more than once turned away scammers interested in nothing more than quick fame online. In return, Coco was allowed to unofficially learn her craft alongside the younger women in the Academy. 

Cordelia shook her head. “Have you met Mr. Langdon yet?”

“You mean eye candy man?”

“Coco, he’s eighteen.”

“Maybe,” the other woman tapped her chin with her pen. “But eighteen is legal.”

It was a blessing to Cordelia now that she knew Coco and her sense of humor, but a shiver ran through her anyway. “I have a favor to ask of you, if you don’t mind?”

“Anything for my favorite Supreme.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Let me know!


	3. Chapter 3

The Academy’s valedictorian was, to say the least, an enigma to the stranger. He wondered how she had even come to claim the title she bore: if the school had only offered classes pertaining to talent and magick he would have understood, but the Supreme and Headmistress prided herself on teaching the same curriculum that all the other little children in the county had to learn, and so he was utterly confused as to how it was that Mallory was top of her class. The subjects seemed as interesting to her as her nail beds, she never rose her hand to answer a question or offer a solution, and the idea of homework was almost a mystery to her. She was everything he wasn’t. 

And yet, Mallory was a complete pushover. The opinions her teachers had of her were her highest concern. She stayed after class to whisper and murmur things behind closed doors with her superiors, she frequently helped outside of working hours with banal tasks like gardening and dusting the bookshelves. As far as he knew, Proper Manners wasn’t a subject taught in the nearest public schools. 

He, on the other hand, knew he was trying too hard but he couldn’t help finishing his papers in blue fountain pen inks and raising his hand every time one of the proclaimed witches asked a question, fingers fumbling in the air to grasp anyone’s attention. He wondered if she too judged him as he did her. He could only hope so. After all, he had spent every waking moment at Hawthorne’s studying. The others hadn’t mattered to him. 

While the classes were mostly the same, the level was entirely another and if Mallory had the professors in her back pocket, he would have the grades. 

And if he had to, he would play dirty, and have those women in his too. 

Because if Hawthorne hired tutors from the outside to teach the curriculum, the Council members here at Robichaux’s were in charge of the classes. What had surprised him the most was that even Cordelia Goode, their Supreme, taught history. He had thought that she wouldn’t have had the time, or hell, that she would have taught biology since her natural talent was alchemy but that task had been given, along with earth science, to the necromancer that shadowed the older woman. Though it wasn’t uncommon to find Cordelia sitting in the back of the greenhouse while Misty Day taught the youngsters, her fingers tending to the soil by the most tender and fragile of flowers. 

He paced the halls of the Academy, eyes cast up to the architecture: the apparent beams, the capitals at the top of the columns. It was well past curfew, he knew that much. He’d been studying in the library since dinner had ended. As much as he enjoyed the way the younger girls ran around him like chickens around a rooster, he hated their constant clucking and chattering and he’d started figuratively locking himself in with the dusty books. 

The white light of the moon made the white insides of the lobby even brighter as he paced around. So different than the yellowed hues of Hell Hawthorne’s was accustomed to. He counted each horizon line and each leaf in the wooden and marble imitation foliage but his head whipped around when he heard the Supreme’s office door open. The woman stepped out of her personal room, closing it softly behind her and she began to head in his direction. 

Cordelia was surprised to see him standing there, but it wasn’t unkind. “Michael, why are you up so late?”

He stood up straight, tucking his arms behind his back. “I was just studying in the library ma’am, I figured a cup of tea would be nice right about now,” he replied smoothly. “And yourself?”

She glanced at her own mug, safe but empty in between her thin fingers. “I had paperwork, but I was headed to bed soon.”

“Give it here, Miss Goode, I’ll top you up,” Michael said. 

Cordelia thanked him and followed him into the kitchen by the outside light. He ran the tap water into the boiler delicately and they stood in silence as it heated on the aging but diligent stove top. He pulled it off before it began whistling into the open window’s clear night. He knew she took earl grey with a hint of lemon juice and he copied her personal taste, reaching for a fresh fruit in the basket by the sink. She began to protest but let it slide when he simply smiled at her as he poured her her drink. 

They sat together at the kitchen table, knees bumping momentarily beneath it. 

“Are you liking it here, Michael?” Cordelia asked softly. The doors were closed but still she respected her girls. He took note of that. 

“Quite so, Miss Goode. The attic space is more than comfortable and spacious, I thank you for your generous hospitality. It’s quite an honor to be taught by such witches as yourself and the Council.” 

“Please, you don’t have to be so formal. I know you’ve been here just a few days but we’re family here.” She reached and rested her hand on the back of his. “A band of sisters welcoming a son.”

“Thank you,” he murmured. It was genuine. 

“Are the classes, both mundane and magick oriented, kind to you?”

“Very much so. I’m liking it here much more than at Hawthorne’s: I’m afraid the classes there were much too easy for me.”

Cordelia smiled. “I could tell you were goal oriented.” She shifted and Michael could tell she was trying to stay humble now. “I try my best to take every student’s needs into consideration when it comes to their education here. I’m glad to know I haven’t been wrong yet.”

“I dare say I find it difficult to believe you’d ever be wrong, Miss Goode.”

She blushed. “You’re flattering me, Mr. Langdon.” His lips upturned and he shrugged. “I’m sorry, it’s getting quite late, I should be getting to bed. As should you, Michael. You have class early tomorrow.”

“I’ve got a few books to put away in the library before I head up, but I will be heading up, Miss Goode.” He leaned forward, untangling their hands so that he could pat hers. “I promise.”

The Supreme stood, fixing the back of the boy’s sweater collar as she rounded the table. They shared another smile in the midnight twilight of the Louisiana heat. He couldn’t help the way he leaned forward instinctively into her touch, the side of his head and his curly blonde hair reaching for her chest to rest on like stars colliding in the void. He pulled back at the last moment and looked up at the Supreme, feeling suddenly lost in that dark space and Cordelia gazed back at him, fingers halfway to his own sun kissed curls. 

She smiled feebly and he followed her out of the kitchen, books back underneath his arm. He watched her climb the grand white staircase, illuminated by moonlight. 

He called up. “Do tell good night to Miss Day for me, won’t you?”

Cordelia paused and glanced back over her shoulder at him, confusion dotting her black, black eyes. 

And she mounted the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you always for your feedback and kind words! Let me know what you think :*


	4. Chapter 4

Even though his suit was a tailored one, it sat awkwardly on his gangly body. He’d stood up straight when it had been sewn around him but now, as he paced the Academy’s garden, it fit him in all the wrong places. He hunched and he had heard from voices behind his back that he limped and that that’s what caused it. He himself hadn’t noticed it, but then again he didn’t care. 

Kyle only cared for his work, his tending to the grounds, and that he had a bed to sleep in at the end of the night. 

The neighborhood association had allowed the Supreme to purchase the land on either sides and behind the Academy and she’d reattached those buildings to their great institution, a grand garden flowering in the middle as a courtyard. The home behind the original Academy now housed its tenants; only the Council and the Supreme had kept their original living spaces inside Robichaux’s. He, once the only man on the property, had a little cottage right off the right end he kept tidy and simple. When Cordelia had announced the Langdon boy’s arrival he had begrudgingly thought he’d have to share his quarters but she’d asked her butler instead to fix up the old attic space that had once belonged to his predecessor. Away from the rest of the female students. 

If the grounds had multiplied in size, the relationship he had once shared with the now Council member of Her House Zoe, had not. It had fizzled out as quickly as it had begun, he figured. It had been too quick of a beginning but then again they had been both so traumatized and so willing to fall into each other’s arms and after all, even if his mind had slowly come back he’d truly been a sub-par creation of Frankenstein’s at the time. Sometimes he wondered if he’d been used, sometimes he wondered if he’d liked it. 

At least they were still friends. He’d even been able to mend his friendships with Misty Day and Madison (the latter had taken some time to forgive him for strangling her to death but it had worked out). 

He walked past the original building now, pausing to take a look at the roses and chrysanthemums that had been planted after the change in supremacy for their fallen ranks. They flowered every spring and he took care of pruning and watering them for his superiors. As he bent down to smell his protégées, his ears perked up to the open windows. 

“I’ve got nothing, Miss Goode, nothing at all.”

He looked into the kitchen as he walked past, catching blonde hair lighter than his. The Supreme exchanged a smile with him and he nodded briefly before disappearing from view. 

Cordelia turned back to Coco. “Nothing at all?” she echoed. 

“I would say he’s far from evil because there’s nothing there to even feel, but I can’t promise he’s even good. It’s hard to tell. You saw me at those dinners sitting at his side and in class, I couldn’t get any closer to him unless I slept with him. I tried, I really did.”

“I know you did,” the Supreme acknowledged. She sighed and leaned against the counter next to Misty Day. “Thank you, Coco.”

“I could always sleep with him.”

“Thank you, Coco.”

Cordelia couldn’t help herself from rubbing the bridge of her nose as the woman left and she spared an exasperated look at the grinning necromancer. The Supreme leaned into the younger blonde, letting herself be enveloped in strong, tanned arms. 

“Could be worse darlin’,” Misty joked. “She coulda said he was the antichrist.” Cordelia huffed lightly, burrowing deeper into blonde curls. 

The Supreme sighed sweetly when the necromancer turned and picked her up by her waist to sit her on the kitchen counter. She wrapped her arms around the older woman and Cordelia let her cheek rest against the girl’s hair, breathing the earthy smell in. 

“I may not know who or what that boy will become,” she began softly. “but we know who he is, at least. Someone we can trust.” She played with errant strands of hair. “He’ll graduate in spring; I just want to do right by him by then. Maybe then I can ensure that our line can find success with the boys from Hawthorne in the future. Wouldn’t that be nice? I don’t want us to be endangered anymore. I want us to live.”

Misty enveloped her friend in a tight embrace. “Anythin’ you want, Delia, we’ll do.”

The older blonde kissed her friend at the corner of her lips and they shared a grin as they touched foreheads. 

Cordelia bit her lower lip. “Guess what?” She waited a moment, gazing into Misty’s blue sea gaze. “We get to plant the dahlias tonight, it’s time.” Her smile fell slowly. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m runnin’ that overnight field trip tonight, remember?”

“Oh.” The Supreme disentangled herself from Misty.

“I’m sorry-“

“No, it’s okay, it’s not your fault.” Cordelia shook her head. “Don’t worry about it.”

The swamp witch seemed to deflate. “I’m sorry,” She repeated. 

“I forgot about that trip,” the Supreme said, almost to herself. She sighed. “Are you alright with me planting them without you? I’ve had it planned and the spells and dirt supplements are ready.”

“I wish I could be there, I’m sorry.”

The words stung in the back of Cordelia’s eyes now as she ran them over again in her head. Over and over again. She’d heard them said hundreds of times by the late Supreme, though without the apology or even the wishful thinking the sentence was meant to convey, and she’d heard it just as many times from the retired chancellor rarely able to move down from Massachusetts nowadays. Tied up in work, tied up in their own lives. 

She couldn’t be angry; she’d scheduled the first years’ field trip herself after all, but she was sad, and that she was allowed (and she allowed herself fully) to be. It was a routine now, a ritual, even a tradition, for her and the necromancer to plant the new seeds of growth whenever they called. And tonight, for the first time, she wouldn’t have the bayou beauty at her side; rings throwing errant fairy lights against the walls and her laugh rippling life into the leaves. Cordelia could still have the soft music, of course, but it wouldn’t be the same, and she wrestled with herself about letting the needle touch the disc at all. 

Tears, warm and heavy, fell against the black dahlias in her hand and she cooed apologetically at them, brushing her emotions off the petals with delicate fingers. She knew they wouldn’t judge but it was no reason to drown them in her heartache. She was blessed and thankful for the prestige the Academy knew now but she missed her best friend. Could this constitute a reason for the ugly sob trying to break free from the back of her hollowed mouth? Should she let herself be this upset over something so simple? If simple, it mattered to her so much, and there was no one to blame but goddamned strokes of bad luck situations, and her sadness instead of being directed at anything but herself pooled at her feet and she seemed to wade in the feeling of never coming to shore again. 

She spared a look at the nearby calendar to spy the next planting night, making a note in her head to make sure the necromancer would be free because spending an evening crying alone in a greenhouse was much too reminiscent of her farther and nearer pasts and that she could do without. At least now, no broken glass littered the floor, thrown around with angry words and battering fists. 

There was a knock and she jumped lightly, torn out of her whirlwind thoughts. Cordelia wiped her last stray tears away before turning and steeling herself. She waved her hand and the door opened. “Oh, Michael. Hello.”

“Evening, Miss Goode.” He paused in the doorway, gazing at her. “Are you alright?”

Surprised, the Supreme nodded. “Of course, why?” The boy shrugged as he walked into her domain. His fingers grazed the leaves and she couldn’t help the weird pang of pain behind her heart, somewhere between two vacuoles. 

“What are you up to?” he asked slowly. 

She took a step back to let him enter her space at the counter and he picked up a bundle of flowers, watching the color reflect in the dim overhead lights and the ultraviolet lamps from the far side section of the greenhouse. “I’m planting my dahlias tonight, it’s the season.”

“All by yourself?”

Cordelia looked away, sighed. “Seems so.”

“May I help, Miss Goode?”

The Supreme looked at Michael, gazed into his ice cold eyes with her own black ones, and finally she nodded. “I’ve started on the black dahlias, would you like to help with the red ones?”

The young man smiled and followed her lead silently. Their fingers bumped together when they reached for the same pair of pruning shears and Michael pulled back, muttering an apology behind a small smile. 

It took some time but Cordelia’s nerves settled. Still it nagged her that no music played from the old record player in the corner of the room and that no laughter rang in her empty heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love your feedback, thank you!   
> Let me know what you think about this newest chapter :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do apologize for the delay in this chapter, I've had life obligations! Thank you for your continued support it means a lot to me! I hope you enjoy this chapter :)

The smile Michael had reserved for himself had disappeared as soon as the Academy’s valedictorian had waltzed into the library, haven that he’d adopted for himself and by himself without asking any questions. Mallory didn’t even glance over at him as she crossed to stand by the ever dust infested shelves to put a few choice picks back. 

He watched her over the rim of his book and from behind stray curls, careful to turn his straying attention back to the words beneath his gaze when she would angle her body, though she never turned her head fully. He wondered if he when he did look down at his page, she turned to gaze at him between baited breaths like he did. 

“I didn’t know you were into plants.”

Michael fully looked up, unsure that it even was the girl in the room speaking as she hadn’t budged from in front of the bookshelf. “Pardon?”

She pointed, manicured finger at the ready. “The book you’re reading?”

He closed the cover, gazing at the used and frayed pages that he knew some student had loved to ruin before him. 

“There wasn’t as much emphasis on horticulture at Hawthorne’s,” the boy replied. “I’m just catching up.”

“You’re doing a lot of that, aren’t you.”

Michael narrowed his eyes. “I care about my education.”

“You think I don’t?”

He scoffed and the room fell silent once more but he smirked as he watched her grimace, satisfied. He only flitted through the pages now as he wasn’t interested in reading anymore. Finally he sighed aloud. A long drawn out sound he’d heard Madison do before in between chapter lessons; a sound that had annoyed him at the time but that he found very useful now as he did the same to his peer. 

Mallory scrunched her nose at that. She switched books. “Do you mind?”

“I don’t.”

The girl picked yet another book, raising her eyebrows. “What’s your talent anyway?” When he didn’t answer, she sighed shortly. “Your talent? Your ability?” the girl elucidated. “Is it alchemy? Fuck, even if it isn’t you reading the entire biology section I guess is why Miss Goode likes you so much.”

Michael blinked slowly, thoughtfully. “You think she likes me?”

“You may be pretty but you’re oblivious.”

He glared at her but left it there.

He thought the greenhouse would be empty this time of night when he walked in but the lights were on and an eclectic singer crooned in the background. His heart sped up but he willed it down confusingly, hurriedly reminding himself that it was the necromancer who played the record player, not the Supreme. He put a spring in a step he didn’t quite feel he owned and walked up to Misty Day. 

The older blonde noticed him quickly, flashing him a friendly smile that he returned. 

“Michael, what brings ya down here?”

“I wanted to check on how my dahlias were doing but I see you got to them before I did, Miss Day.”

His teacher looked down at the plants she was tending to. She swallowed thickly. “I thought I would, yea. I kinda let Miss Goode down last week.”

He patted her shoulder sympathetically. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Misty shrugged. “Thanks for takin’ care of her. She was really appreciatin’ of it, and so was I.”

“It was no problem. She’s quite the woman,” he replied. 

“Ain’t she?” The woman smiled. “Have ya ever done this before?” She gestured to the flowers. “Ya did a real good job.”

“Thank you Miss Day, but I’ll be honest: Miss Goode did the most of it.”

Misty laughed lightly, ducking her head to hide her lasting smile. “She’s always been hands on.”

“I think that’s a good thing to be when you’re a teacher.” He shifted to place his elbows on the counter, leaning his chin in his hand. “How long have you two been friends for, Miss Day?” She glanced at him and he held her gaze, unashamed as he was of such a personal question. She didn’t seem to mind or care about the confidentiality he was supposed to uphold with her. 

She sighed, almost in a dreamlike state. “God, it feels like I’ve known her my whole life,” she said. She turned back to misting the plants with her water spritzer. “It’s only been a few years though.” He smiled encouragingly. “Six, I think. Five? Actually I ain’t sure,” she laughed. “I was dead a moment in there somewhere.”

He frowned. “That must have been tough on you both.”

“Mostly on her. I was dead right? Couldn’t quite feel time passin’ in that blackness. But I’ve been back and that’s the most important part, we moved on past it, ya know?” She shook her head, curls bouncing. “Can’t get stuck in that kinda trauma forever, it ruins your life if ya do.” He nodded knowingly but she spared him a questioning look. 

He fingered the flowers by her hands, softly petting the material. “She uses this place to mend herself, doesn’t she.” Misty gazed at him for a moment before nodding. “Do you?”

“We all need our little place, Michael. For me it’s people, for Miss Goode it just might be this basement here.” The necromancer patted his hand. “Library’s yours, hmm?”

He shrugged. “I wouldn’t say so. I don’t think I’ve found it yet.”

“Here at Robichaux’s?”

“Anywhere, really.”

The bayou witch frowned at that. “I’m sorry, darlin’. I know that feelin’s tough.”

The boy shook his head and smiled. “It’s more than alright, Miss Day, again, it’s not your fault.” He paused to think and after a moment he finally joked. “Maybe I’ll hang down here more often, maybe it’ll rub off on me like it did our Supreme.”

“I’m sure she’ll be more than happy to help ya find your way, Mr. Langdon,” the necromancer said encouragingly. 

“It’s kinda her thing,” they clamored together and burst into giggles, Misty bumping her shoulder into his. 

He became serious. “If I have to bribe her to let me in here more often, what’s it going to take? Food? Perfume? Clothes?” He leaned into her. “Spill the beans, Miss Day, come on.”

Misty scoffed out a laugh. “All the food ya can get.” She lowered her voice comically. “Between ya and me, Mikey boy, it’s a good thin’ I was raised out in the Louisiana backwaters with soul food pumped into my veins. That woman’s insatiable.”

“How does she keep her figure?” He narrowed his eyes. 

“Still tryin’ to figure that out, kid.” She pushed him lightly. “If ya ever find out while you’re hangin’ out down here, lemme know.”

He left her in the dim lights of the window paned ceiling of the greenhouse, hoping that as he headed back for the library Mallory was long gone from his nook and that the Academy carried a section on cuisine.


	6. Chapter 6

“You know,” Queenie lumbered up to Madison’s side and gazed through the same peephole the dirty blonde was. The salon was filled to the brim with the Academy’s senior students. “If Nan were here-“

“Oh please,” the telekinetic waved her off with her hand. She frowned as she counted the girls in the room. “If Nan were here she’d already have spilt all the exam questions, and their answers.” Queenie laughed lightly. “I don’t know why Cordelia insists on doing these meetings every single year. Like, we get it. They’re not stupid, they know how school works.”

“I like them well prepared and calm for the midterms. Just like I did you all those years ago.”

Madison turned to grimace at the Supreme. “A lady shouldn’t reveal another lady’s age.”

“Lady?”

“Shut up, Queenie.”

Cordelia tried to hide her smile. “Is everyone accounted for, Maddie?”

“Seems so; Zoe’s got them corralled in there,” the younger blonde smirked, exaggerating her accent. “Like a pack o’ wild hogs in a field o’ corn.”

Queenie ushered the Council member into the salon. “Jesus girl, what kinda producer ever thought you were worth anything?”

Cordelia let them argue their way through the crowded room, watching them from where she leaned against the doorframe. As expected, Mallory sat in the front row, closest to where she could hold a conversation with the Coven’s Guardian Misty Day. The two spoke in low tones, agreeing with each other about something the Supreme could only guess was lighthearted despite their secrecy. 

“I’m not late, am I?”

Cordelia turned, somewhat surprised, but smiled tenderly at an out of breath Michael who’d obviously ran down from the attic. “No, you’re just in time. I was about to start.” She motioned him into the room and he found an empty seat near the back. Kyle had had the space set to accommodate the girls. He’d pushed the couch and armchairs to the sides and against the walls and counted out enough metal fold out chairs so every girl had somewhere to sit.

Her students were quiet and attentive as she took her usual place by the chimney, where she stood the tallest with slow roaring embers at her back. 

“Good morning, everyone.”

The girls replied as a chorus, Michael joining in softly from behind them all. His low voice met theirs in a musical lilt. 

Mallory turned halfway in her seat to stare at him. He held her gaze. 

“In a week, class will be dismissed for holiday break.” The Supreme let a ripple of excitement rush through the room. “And while I do so often and I apologize every time, I’m going to have to burst your bubble once more. Midterm exams will take place the week you all come back.” This time, the noise that burst from the group was one that was less than thrilled. “I know, but it’s necessary. While I wish you all the best during these two weeks of freedom, I do hope you’ll remember to keep up with your studies. I, and the rest of the staff, have printed out your study packets for this semester; you’ll be getting them in the next few days during class.”

Cordelia paused, taking in every pair of wide eyes staring back up at her. She took a deep breath, knowing the next point would be one of contention. “Midterms are important,” she began. “But no more so than your college applications. I know a few of you have already sent in yours for early admission but for those who haven’t, please take these last few weeks before final due dates to read yourselves over properly. I am always available to help you with your drafts, and we are all more than happy to write your letters of recommendations.” She smiled softly. “Remember, we now have a place amongst our non-magickal peers with an extensive network of Robichaux alumni leading the way in top universities across the country: there’s nothing to be afraid of, there will always be a sister there for you.”

The necromancer beside her, a little in retreat, raised her voice. “If a trade school or somethin’ in the like is more your style, don’t be afraid of sayin’ so. College ain’t always for everyone.” She smiled at a few girls in the attendance. 

“Miss Day is acquainted with the topic and is our resident alternative schooling counselor,” Cordelia added. She smiled at the swamp witch fondly.“Please use your resources. Everyone here has a place out there. Your link with this Academy does not end with you leaving its doors after graduation.”

If the rest of his senior class had taken the words to heart, leaving the salon to replenish the halls of the front house and the back house and the gardens, Michael had hung back after the meeting and snuck through the Supreme’s open office door. He had thought of waiting for her in the greenhouse but he thought it too obvious, especially with the necromancer heading in its direction with Madison, talking animatedly. 

He swallowed thickly as he looked around the room. He hadn’t entered it since his first meeting with the woman and it hadn’t changed in that span of time. 

But it was only now he noticed the icy stare from the portrait in the corner, shadowed between a coat hanger and a full bookshelf. He wanted to tear off his own cardigan and throw it over the painting’s face, unnerved. He couldn’t help but know that Cordelia had thought the same thing more often than not, and yet the picture sat there in its golden frame, staring. 

The blond boy sat down in the chair across the desk, rubbing the inside of his hands down his pant legs to try and get rid of the clammy feeling but it wasn’t working and he stood again, unable to sit still after all. He rounded the bureau and his fingers ran across the back of the black computer chair. He could tell it had been bought smartly: its back was straight, the cushion pliant and comfortable, the wheels rolled smoothly when he pushed it. It was a buy the Supreme had made herself. He pulled the chair out from beneath the desk and fingered the top gingerly. 

Finally, he sat down. His feet rested comfortably on the floor and he wondered if the woman liked having her feet dangle lightly. A thought thundered through his mind that maybe someone else had set the height, but he coughed it away. The desk was neat, the pencils following straight lines and edges. A succulent swallowed the light greedily in the corner. 

The door opened and he scrambled to his feet, curls flying. 

“Corde-I mean, Miss Goode, hi,” he stammered. The Supreme’s black gaze followed his strained movements as he dusted the chair ineffectively and pushed it back into place. “I’m sorry, I-“

Cordelia raised her hand and he paused, looking sickly pale. “Just sit, Michael.” He nodded quickly and reached for her chair but caught himself last minute and headed for her guest chair. She sat across from him and he noticed her toes barely touching the carpet. “You seem preoccupied.”

“I, ah, I think I am, yes.”

“About midterms?” She pushed her glasses up her nose and his eyes followed her fingers. “I feel as though your transfer here was smooth, you’ve been keeping your grades up and you seem to have gotten used to our system of doing things-“

“It’s more about graduation, I think.”

The Supreme uncrossed her legs and crossed them again. “Graduation? What about it?”

“Or, college applications, most likely. I’m not sure.” 

Cordelia watched him, letting him take his time in formulating his thoughts. 

He spoke rapidly, throwing the words up. “Miss Goode, I don’t think I’m ready to graduate. I’ve too much to learn still and I don’t think I’m meant to leave yet. Maybe I could stay another year here, redo my semesters, or be an assistant like Miss Coco is?”

“Michael-“

“I’m sure I could, I don’t know, I could be the unofficial official librarian. I could help the younger girls?”

This time when Cordelia held her hand up, he paused, breathing in through his nose. “Michael,” she started. “Are you going home for the holidays?”

He blinked at her. “No.” He shook his head, laughing nervously. “I think my grandma cleaned my room out already.”

“Let’s take time over the holidays to talk this over then, alright?” the woman offered. “In professional or unprofessional meetings, whichever. You seem confused, let’s work through that. I can see you tomorrow morning if you’d like.” He nodded slowly. “There’s no need to panic.” She stood up and he followed her movements. He was taller than her and yet he somehow found himself looking up into her black eyes. She placed her hand on his shoulder and rubbed her thumb along the seam of his shirt. “Is there anything else on your mind, Michael?”

His throat was parched and he began to nod but he stopped himself, turning it into a shake of his blond curls. “I’m fine.” She regarded him, doubt in her gaze. “Tomorrow morning?” She assured him with a small noise and a smile and she went to move away. 

His fingers wrapped around the back of her elbow, his ice eyes moved up her arm and to her collarbone. Ravenously. 

“Tomorrow, Michael.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize if this read like a filler chapter but I promise (as I've already written it) that the next chapter will include some Misty and Cordelia alone time and that this is relevant! I'm thinking two or three more chapters?  
> Thank you for sticking with my ideas!


	7. Chapter 7

He didn’t know whether to chew on his bottom lip or the skin at the edge of his thumbnail. Almost alone in the Academy, he’d requisitioned the entire living room couch for himself, feet dangling at the end and toes wrapped in thick socks that kept the winter chill out as he thought. 

Cordelia had assured him more than he’d wanted her to. Had perhaps kept him a little longer than he thought she’d have but her office had been warm and she’d had coffee ready for him when he’d sat across from her and so he’d accepted all her kind words of advice. Not to her credit, he still didn’t know what he wanted to do with himself. To her credit, she’d picked up on it quickly and had offered him more help but only on the basis that he gave her a few days to come up with solutions to his anxious musings. She’d mentioned talking to her Council, as different as his case was for Robichaux’s, a first for them. 

He gazed up when the sliding doors slid open and Madison Montgomery threw him a wave, eyes glued to her phone. She settled in a free armchair to his left and closed the door back again behind her with a slow blink. 

He watched her type away almost maniacally. He’d heard a rumor once from one of the junior girls that she’d exceeded thirteen thousand texts the month before. He believed it. 

He wrung his hands between his propped knees. “I can tell you anything, can’t I?” he asked softly. 

She peered at him from over her screen, eyes narrowed. “Are you asking me that as my student or as my peer?”

“Depends,” he murmured back. “Is there a difference?”

She sighed audibly, pushing herself into a different position in her armchair. “Do you want this kept a secret? I’m not the best at keeping secrets,” she mocked. 

He grimaced. “Yes, you are. I can’t hold this in much longer, Miss Montgomery. I’m going to burst if I don’t tell someone.”

“What is it, Mike?” The telekinetic placed her phone face down against her abdomen, waiting. 

He chewed the inside of his cheek. He hated the nickname but his chest was past aching and he couldn’t be bothered enough with it to drive her away with his temper. Her attitude was to be reckoned with, he knew. 

He coughed lightly, frowning. 

“There’s this-I’ve never felt like this before.” Madison raised an eyebrow. “She’s got wonderful blonde hair and beautiful features. She’s smart, but by god she doesn’t flaunt it. She’s got this voice that just sings and when she’s the first thing you see in the morning it’s just- God, I…I think I love her.”

The breath after was tense and he held his as he watched Madison. Finally, she blew out a sigh.

“Oh, boy.” She settled herself again. “This was bound to happen.”

Michael darkened. “Don’t tease me.”

“Jesus, I’m not, but god are boys predictable. Put a dude in a room full of boobs and he can’t help himself.” The girl glanced at him, suddenly surprised. “You’re not gay?”

“No!” he snapped. 

“Whatever,” she gestured at him. “In any case, I just didn’t take you for someone who got scared.”

“Excuse me?”

Madison Montgomery shrugged, barely acknowledging his raised eyebrows. Or his scowl. “I figured you’d tell her, that’s all. You walk around here all high and mighty and you’ve got all the girls licking where your shoes stepped, and you can’t talk to one miserable girl? I mean, if it was me, sure, I’d get it. I’ve got two million followers on twitter and almost as many likes on each of my Instagram pics. But she’s not me,” she scoffed. 

He mulled his words over. “Where is she now?”

“I don’t know, kid. In her dorm room probably.”

He lifted his chin from his fist, frowning. “What?”

Madison shrugged. “Mallory? She’s got to be in her room. She didn’t go home this break either. Hey, at least you two can be alone without anybody bothering you this week. Take her out to dinner or something. Boring, but, you know, you’re eighteen.”

“Oh. Yea. Mallory.” Michael rested back in his hand and he let the moment pass. “Where’s Cor-I mean, Miss Goode?”

“Why, are you that eager to get your ass wiped again by what your non-existent future holds? Or do you think she’ll actually care about your Valentine’s Day troubles?” Madison snickered to herself, pulling her phone back up. “She’s busy.”

“Busy?”

“Yea, with Misty. They’re out grocery shopping.” She sighed. “They took the Audi, too. Jerks.”

The Audi was a sleek black sports car that was reserved for the staff and firstly for the Supreme. If the insurance company had her Council’s names as potential drivers, it was in her name after all. It now pulled into the driveway and parked at its end under the birch trees, but no one left it when the engine turned off. 

Inside, the Supreme behind the driver’s wheel stretched her back, hands reaching for the sky covered by the car roof. 

“I really should get my driver’s license, shouldn’t I,” Misty drawled. “I know your back’s been hurtin’.”

“If I took your advice more often and stayed out of my office, I’d be fine,” Cordelia admitted. She raised an eyebrow and smiled. “You hate being behind the wheel.” The necromancer shrugged good-naturedly and the older of the two stretched again, letting out a noise that resembled a cat’s meowl as much as her lithe body contracting did. 

Misty reached over to hold onto the bottom of the Supreme’s night black shirt, keeping it down so that it didn’t ride up over porcelain skin. Cordelia’s fingers intertwined with the blonde’s and she thanked her as she laid her head back against the headrest. 

“I could stay here a while,” she said softly. “What about you?” Misty nodded, closing her eyes as she settled comfortably in the passenger seat. It was as if she was purring. Cordelia reached over and tucked a stray curl of hair behind the woman’s ear, smiling when Misty turned into it and rested her cheek against the palm of the Supreme’s hand. “Holiday’s nice, isn’t it?” she continued. “Nobody around, no tests, no hordes of girls trampling around stressing everyone out.” The necromancer nodded against her. 

“Bein’ able to play whatever I want whenever I want in the greenhouse.” The bayou witch turned to face her friend. “Just you and me.”

“Hard to leave the summer vibes behind, isn’t it?”

“Extremely hard. I thought I’d get used to it but goddamn does it sting every time.”

Cordelia leaned in to kiss her cheek. “We’re free for now.” She went to pull away but Misty held her there and they shared a smile. It was the necromancer who initiated a butterfly kiss, long eyelashes flirting with Cordelia’s skin. She pressed her own kiss to the Supreme’s cheek, close to the corner of her lips. 

The younger of the two swallowed, lips dry. She repeated herself, softer now. “Goddamn, does it sting.” She pushed forward but the car’s trunk was suddenly snapped opened. 

They pulled apart like if fire had brandished its flames and licked them and they abruptly turned, staring Kyle down. 

The boy’s eyes were wide. “Oh, I’m sorry Miss Goode, Miss Day. I heard you come in and I thought you might need help with the groceries.” He suddenly looked upset, mind tearing apart in two inside. His fingers flirted with the trunk’s hatch. “Should I come back later?”

“You don’t have to, darlin’, I can bring it in,” Misty said. He nodded and gave them a wave with tensed muscles. He walked back through the Academy’s side door. 

The two fell back into their seats, sighing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes thoughts? No thoughts? Maybe thoughts?


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapter than usual, please enjoy! I appreciate you all!  
> (Would anyone be interested in a vampire foxxay fic? Or a Killing Eve fic?)

The Secretary of Her Council Coco had assured him that all he’d asked for had found its way into the cupboards and the fridge. He had been initially worried that it was the Supreme who’d gone shopping with part of his list in hand but he didn’t know how to drive and he couldn’t have asked Madison: she didn’t care and he didn’t have the money to bribe her with cigarettes. 

So he’d hoped and prayed the Supreme hadn’t read her own cooking books and that even if she had, the ingredients she’d picked up for him hadn’t rang any bells. He’d watched her and the necromancer unpack the recyclable bags from the stairway, head between two rails like a child watching out for trouble. It was only when they were gone, shoulders bumping as they left for the gardens that he sneaked out into the kitchen. 

In the fridge the women had just stocked he found the large turkey they’d picked up for Christmas dinner, one that was labeled Kosher so that Zoe could join in on the festivities too. Cordelia had already started helping the younger woman with lighting the menorah. 

He pushed past the vegetables meant for the stuffing Misty swore up and down about and found what he wanted, sighing in relief as he ticked off his mental grocery list. Coco hadn’t let him down, at least. 

Michael sneaked back out of the kitchen and up to the attic space that had been turned into his room. He knew he didn’t have to walk on the balls of his feet in his sneakers, knew he didn’t have to look over his shoulder constantly, and yet. He wanted tonight to be the epitome of perfection for the object of his obsession. He pulled his laptop out from under his bed. 

Weeks of observing Cordelia’s eating habits had given him plenty of ideas for the dinner he’d put together for her. He had at first thought of a restaurant out in the city like his telekinetic professor had suggested but none seemed right enough for the Supreme and he wanted to honor her as best as he could. She was, after all, the most powerful witch in the world. 

And the most otherworldly. 

Downstairs, he began to hoard the dry ingredients he’d need in his personal drawer; a system that he heard had been thought of by a Queenie annoyed at her candy going missing more often than not. There, he could lock his belongings safely. Even if there were only a handful of people left on the property, he couldn’t have this getting out. It would be embarrassing for him, the Alpha male of Hawthorne’s, if it got back to his old classmates that he’d groveled at Cordelia Goode’s feet. 

He wanted to grovel, wanted to be on a leash at her pumps, but no one could know that. 

The sink behind him began to burst water and he flipped on himself, his back ramming into the drawer and slamming it shut. 

“Miss Goode-!”

The Supreme spared him a look as she filled an empty ceramic mug, smiling. “Are you alright there, Michael? You’re sweating.”

“Yes, sorry, you just scared me.”

“See, that’s one of the perks of being the Supreme,” She leaned back against the counter, mug between her fingers against her chest. “Nothing and no one surprise me anymore,” she said, eyes flashing with mirth. “I hope you haven’t been too bored; it gets pretty quiet around here during winter break.”

“I’ve actually welcomed the quiet,” he offered. Cordelia hummed in agreement as she drank. “And I’ve been looking at the resources you found me earlier, thank you.”

“Any breakthroughs?” Her smile fell when Michael shook his head. “I’m sure it’ll come to you, you have time.” She brightened. “What are you up to?”

“Right now?” he asked, fiddling with his drawer knob. “I, I’m getting ready for Christmas.”

The woman sighed contentedly. “I love that.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “Can I help? Who’s it for?” 

His words died at the back of his throat when she placed her mug on the countertop and sidled up to his side, bumping shoulders with him. He wrung his hands together, looking down at his feet. 

“Oh, just, you know, someone.”

Cordelia’s eyebrows raised. “That’s a loaded answer.”

“To be fair, Miss Goode, that was a loaded question.”

She held her hands up, laughing. “Alright, I’ll back off. Misty’s always telling me I need to stay out of you kids’ lives anyway.”

“I appreciate the effort,” he said.

“No need to lie, sweetheart.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, the clock on the wall ticking by. He could feel her lungs inhale and expand, shoulder leaning into hers. He began to regulate his breathing with hers, shallowing his ins, deepening his outs. 

Cordelia’s voice was soft. “I’m doing some Christmas readying of my own.” Michael gazed at her, following the profile of her nose down to her lips. She met his eyes, his own snapping up. “Would you want to help me?”

He balked. “Excuse me?”

“I’m kind of stuck,” she admitted. “And I figure you’re more in touch with what’s hot or not out there.” She laughed awkwardly. “I’m too busy to keep up.”

He nodded once, then several times as his confidence grew. “Of course, Miss Goode.”

Cordelia pushed off the counter, wringing her hands. “You’re very kind, Michael.”

“Anything for you,” he breathed out.

The Supreme smiled at him and pulled him to the table. They sat down across from each other but Michael itched to inch closer. 

The woman leaned in cautiously. “This person is very special to me; they mean a lot.”

His breath hitched and his ears buzzed. “Do they, now.”

Cordelia nodded assuredly. He blinked his ice like stare at her as she started to pull away in her thoughts. Her fingers came up to grasp onto his, tightening in a vice like grip as she rubbed the tip of her thumb up his knuckles and down again in a soothing pattern. “At my age, you’d think I’d have no issues finding ideas.”

“You’re not old.”

She gazed at him warmly at his indignant outburst, his back rod straight. “I’ve seen more winter mornings than you, Michael, but thank you.”

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with having troubles finding the right gift,” he mused. “If you want it to be perfect, I think it’s normal that you’d be hesitant between your choices. I think it means you care a whole lot.”

“I do want it to be perfect,” she admitted. “I want this to, to truly pinpoint how I feel. I want there to be no hesitation in its meaning, no other message to read but true adoration.” Her eyes snapped to their hands when he shifted his palm to grab her hand in his own, bringing his other to cocoon her fingers in between his. 

He breathed in. “That’s what I want, too.”

She gazed at him. “I’m sure it will be.”

“Would you let it be?”

The Supreme took a moment to answer, as careful with her words as he was. “Of course.” Their hands shifted again and she took the upper hand once more, her voice soft. “What would you want most in the whole wide world, Michael, if you could have anything at all?”

His mind raced, screamed as he fought to breathe. You. You. You. “It’s a feeling and a place and a person and a home altogether. It’s indescribable. I don’t know if I could quite put it into words.”

She smiled fondly. “And therein lies the problem, my darling boy. Can anyone ever?” She stood and his heart plummeted in his chest as their fingers trailed apart. “That was very enlightening, thank you.”

“Anything for you,” he repeated breathlessly. “I don’t know if I was much help.”

“You were,” Cordelia assured him, hand trailing to his hair to tangle in his wild curls; a motherly touch he turned into. “Now I know what I’d get you.” She leaned in tentatively, pausing for a moment before finally placing a kiss on the top of his head that now burned as she left the kitchen. 

His heart skipped too many beats as he clutched at his shoulder where she’d touched him, his head, his fingers fighting with themselves. 

As hard as he’d been working to make her holiday perfect, as hard as he’d been working on waiting to tell her how he truly felt and how he would do everything for her on broken knees and split Achille’s heels, she had been doing the same. They’d been at the same place at the same time so often because she’d willed it upon him, not knowing he was just as smitten with her own blonde curls, that he would have followed and would follow her anywhere. 

He hadn’t been sure about the dinner he’d planned, but now he ran for his cupboard and the pots and pans. If the Supreme would be his present, bow and all, he could at least prepare her a red carpet to do it on. 

And if the official Christmas meal was the twenty-fifth, the remaining Academy strays were given free reign for its eve and he’d bribed the schoolgirls to stay out of the greenhouse with comforting smiles and promises to help out with homework. The Council was having a date together with Kyle out in town. He couldn’t think of somewhere or sometime better to take a knee in front of the Supreme, if only for a declaration of all she made him feel. 

He cooked on his side of the counter in the greenhouse (or at least the surface Cordelia accorded him when he gardened by her side) using onion sprigs and herbs from the pots above him on the shelf and when he finished the osso bucco he set the table using the iron wire garden table and chairs he found between two ferns in the back. 

But as he waited longer and longer, perched against a countertop and the meals kept heated under metal covers and over low fire, he wondered if maybe he should have given the Supreme a rendez-vous but as he sat surrounded by dahlias and sweet-smelling poinsettias he knew she was coming and he knew he’d wait forever for her if he had to. 

It was an hour before the door rattled open and he jumped to his feet, shoulders back and breath caught in between lung and esophagus. He could hear Cordelia’s light laugh swimming through to him.

And he could hear a low drawl causing it. 

“Michael?” Cordelia kept her eyes on him as she ushered Misty into the greenhouse and closed the door, entombing them together. He nodded at her, hands coming to clasp behind his back as he remembered now that Zoe hadn’t mentioned the necromancer in their dinner plans but then again, he’d simply assumed. He kicked himself mentally. 

“Good evening, Miss Goode.” He glanced at Misty. “Miss Day.”

“Is that dinner?” the Supreme asked softly. “Were you using the greenhouse tonight?”

“Madison said somethin’ bout some dinner plans,” the younger blonde murmured to her. 

Cordelia breathed in. “Oh.”

He ignored that the telekinetic had apparently spilled his secrets. She had, after all, warned him that she would. That was on him too. He raised his hand as the two women began to inch back. “No, please, stay. I’m not, it’s, it’s complicated-“

“Breathe, Mikey, you’re lookin’ like you’re gonna hyperventilate,” Misty warned. 

“It’s not Mikey,” he replied. “It’s Michael.”

Cordelia stepped in between them, the swamp witch confused and the warlock’s temper rising. “Michael, what’s going on? Did you make dinner in here? You know you’re not allowed open fire unless supervised down here,” she scolded softly. 

“Sit,” he said. “Please.” With black eyes wide, Cordelia did as she was told, fingers in her lap and ignoring the meal in front of her as she sat sideways in the chair, watching him. Misty shadowed her, standing still behind her and Michael stared her down. But he knew, deep down, she wouldn’t leave even if he asked, so he didn’t. He’d grit his teeth and bare it. 

He wasn’t ashamed of his feelings; he didn’t care who knew. Misty would stay. In fact, he dared her to stay.

“I’m sorry about the cooking,” he offered. 

“What are you doing down here, Michael?” Cordelia asked again. Murmured. His heart ached at her tone of voice, as if she was worried or scared. She wouldn’t ever be scared again in his arms. 

“This is for you, Miss Goode.” He hoped his own voice wasn’t twinging. He watched Misty place her hand on the Supreme’s shoulder protectively. “I made this. For you.” He glanced at the table. “There’s an entrée and a dessert and I’ve made an osso bucco recipe that my grandmother used to make as the main meal.”

“Osso bucco?”

“It’s turkey-“

She held her hand up, effectively shushing him. “I know what an osso bucco is, Michael. What I’m saying is I’m confused as to what this is. Is this for Christmas eve? For us?”

“No it’s, it’s for you. And me.” He looked to Misty again. “Just us.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this? You don’t know if I had plans,” Cordelia said. 

“But,” He turned to the table, suddenly worried as he raked his nails against the stubble on his cheek. He shrugged lamely. “What would it matter? This is important. I know you’d put them aside.”

Cordelia stood and he stepped forward quickly, feeling a sudden push of air against his knees that held him back. He frowned and his grimace grew, but it wasn’t the Supreme’s black gaze that kept him rooted to the spot but the necromancer’s sea foam stare. 

“Let go of me,” he growled. Cordelia glanced back behind her, letting Misty know it was alright and Michael walked up to them. 

“Just explain yourself,” Cordelia asked soothingly. 

He steeled himself, squared his shoulder, and took a deep breath. “I have a lot to say.” Misty’s eyes didn’t leave his. “And it’s hard to say.” He began to pace. “You are a light in this world, Miss Goode. A beacon of hope, and love. You’ve showered me with this light and this hope and this love since my first day here. You and I have shared intimate moments together, conversations I know you’d never have with any of your girls. You’ve opened your heart to mine. I know that now, I know what all this meant. I accept it, Miss Goode. I accept you. I’ve been trying to say so, trying to show it, but it’s never easy, isn’t it?” He swept his arm out, motioning to the dinner he’d painstakingly worked on hours before. Heated still, like his embers. “This was my opus magnum for you, but if I show you, I have to find the right words, don’t I?”

Cordelia watched him. Her voice was so soft he wasn’t sure she’d even said anything. “Michael.”

“I’ve got so much to get off my chest but there’s really only one way to say it, I think,” he continued.

“Michael,” Misty warned. 

“Cordelia,” He kneeled at her feet, gazing up at her from her waist, hands begging to reach and hold her by the back of her thighs. “I love you.”

The Supreme breathed out harshly, as if the wind had been knocked out of her, and she rubbed at a sudden rash appearing around her collarbone. Misty had stepped forward and he cast her a quick frown before looking back up, hope in his blue eyes. 

Cordelia shifted her weight awkwardly. “Michael, darling, please stand up.”

He ignored her. “I love you, Cordelia.” He reached for her hands and she gave them to him loosely, unsure. He thought her fingers were trembling. 

But she pulled away, hugging herself around the waist instead. “Michael, sweetheart-“

He laughed nervously. “What? What is it? Why won’t you say anything? Acknowledge me?”

“Michael,” the Supreme repeated again. “I’m already married.”

The boy stared back, dumbfounded. His hands fell, limp at his side, and he laughed again. “What?”

“I’m married, Michael.” The oldest blonde took the necromancer’s hand in hers, finding strength for her words in the strong body that housed the bayou girl. “We’re married.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go boys and girls, the end of it this slice of life. 
> 
> I do apologize for the wait!

He’d stood as quickly as he could, threatening to tip over as he fumbled over his own feet. His hand landed on the garden table and it dangerously tipped before straightening out. 

“I’m sorry, Michael,” Cordelia reached for him but he tore away. “I thought you knew.”

He barked out a sour laugh that rang deep in the room, bouncing off the walls. “Married?” he finally repeated. “You pulled me along on a string to tell me you’re married? Is this a joke? Am I a joke to you?” His words ended yelled. “I don’t deserve this!”

Misty stepped closer, gazing down at him with help from her platform heels. “Quiet down, boy.”

He was inches from her face, teeth gritted as he hissed. “Don’t you dare tell me what to do, dyke.”

“That’s enough,” the Supreme said. 

The boy turned on her, hackles raised. “You’re just like everyone else, aren’t you? You tell us we’re special, you tell us we’re wanted, needed, and for what? To throw me away when you’re done with me and you’ve drained me of everything I have?”

Misty hovered above him. “She said, that’s enough.”

“And I said, fuck off-!”

He shoved the necromancer as best as he could and she willingly gave him an inch but didn’t budge further, breath rattling out of her lungs at his force. He pushed again, pummeled into her with his left shoulder tucked in and finally she fell back. She twisted out of his way and he went flying past her and he finally tumbled to the floor in a heap of limbs and grunts. 

He turned to stare up at them, at Misty’s blank expression and Cordelia’s worried black eyes. 

“I hate you,” he spit. Tears welled in his eyes. “I hate you.”

A ripple of energy flew off him like ripples on a stormy sea and they shielded themselves as plants fell and glass broke around them in rain of dangerous shards. When they looked back, the warlock was gone. The necromancer made to go after him but Cordelia held her back, fingers around her wrist. 

“Please, let me,” she pleaded. The message was clear between them, be careful, and the Supreme went after the tortuous boy, following the trail of destruction. 

But it was Madison she ran into in the kitchen, the hazel eyed girl wrapped in a light fur coat with snow clinging to her eyelashes. 

“I forgot my wallet,” she said. She frowned. “Are you okay?”

“Have you seen Michael?”

Madison shrugged. “He just ran past. Now that you mention him, he looked pretty upset.” She smiled. “Let me guess, Mallory told him no? That was a given, between you and me.”

“Mallory? What are you- No, where did he go?”

The telekinetic gazed at her, confused. “He ran upstairs, his room I guess.” Cordelia thanked her and pushed past her to reach the stairs. Madison followed her to their start, yelling after her. “This isn’t about Mallory?”

It was mere seconds later that Michael came rampaging down to the ground floor, Cordelia almost flying behind him and calling him by his name. His luggage landed with a heavy thunk, bounced once and opened when it fell again on the wooden floors. Its contents spilled out. He didn’t care as he pounced after it down the stairs. 

“Michael please, give me a moment-“

“You’ve had enough!” he snapped back at her. “You’ve had plenty of times to tell me everything and you didn’t because you made me think I had any chance at a place here! Just admit you just wanted some boytoy to lay your shoulder on at night while your hick of a wife was out or away and-“

The front door had opened, Council member Zoe having joined Madison’s side as she tiptoed in and watched the scene unfold. She seemed embarrassed and when Cordelia looked to her pleadingly, she shrugged. “Madison forgot her wallet.”

“I found it,” the telekinetic replied dryly. “Hick of a wife?” she repeated, suddenly conscious of the situation. 

“Misty? Are you talking about Misty?” Zoe asked. 

“She’s using people!” Michael roared to them. “She used me for emotional, emotional-“ he paused, unable to find his words in between the lines of his range. 

“I never meant to make you think anything,” Cordelia stammered. 

“Used you? Cordelia, what’s going on?” Zoe demanded. 

Michael rounded on the youngest blonde. “She fucked with my head, made me feel wanted and loved and-“ He laughed bitterly. “And she’s married?”

Cordelia watched him with saddened black eyes but she spoke to the room. “He doesn’t understand basic affection.”

“How dare you,” the boy growled.

“I know,” the Supreme took a deep breath. “I know I can be intense in how I care about my students, my Council. I’m sorry, Michael, if I ever made you feel like there was anything more between us than the relationship a mother may have with you. I love you like I would my own child, but nothing more.”

He started to lunge for her but Madison held him back by his sweater sleeve, warning him with a flash of her hazel eyes. 

“You know why this happened, Michael,” Cordelia said. 

“Don’t.”

“I’m sorry, I know we talked about this and that it was meant to stay between us but they need to know. Especially considering your emotional outburst today and the violent aggressions you’ve carried out on a member of this Academy.” Cordelia faced Zoe and Madison. “He’s a manipulator.”

Feet from her, warm salty tears ran down Michael’s cheeks. 

She continued. “His power is manipulation. Hawthorne had warned me and I tried my best to make him feel safe here enough but he’s not able to control it yet. His professors told me they’d tried several ways to curb him but, even I don’t know what to do yet.”

“You’re lying,” he spat out. She stepped up to him, cradling his face in the palms of her hands as he cried openly now. 

“I’m trying to help you, Michael, I promise. I’m sorry I hurt you and smothered you too much with emotions you weren’t used to and destabilizing you.”

“Manipulation?”

Cordelia smiled sadly, not tearing her gaze away from his. “You’ve both had conservations with him, the sense of déja vu you get with him. The feeling that you can’t stop the words from tumbling out of your mouth.”

“It’s not true,” Michael cried. “Please.”

The Supreme pulled him in, holding him against her chest, passing a comforting hand over his arched spine. “The way you can’t stop yourself from doing anything he’d ask. I’m not impervious to it, either,” she added to the girls. “It’s not his fault. You’re very good at what you do,” she said, tucking stray curls behind his ear. “I don’t want you to be ashamed of that.”

“Then-“

“I need you to be in control. We can work on that together, okay? But you need to know that what you’re doing is-“ she searched her words. “Inappropriate.” She whispered. “I’m sorry. I thought you were simply too inexperienced to stop yourself from pulling me into your riptides, I thought it was endearing. I wanted to push you softly into the right direction. That was my fault.” He was shell-shocked in her arms. 

“Manipulation,” Madison breathed. “God that explains a shit-ton.”

“I just knew it was weird of you to be so friendly so easily,” Zoe said. 

“You don’t know how to make friends any other way, do you?” Cordelia asked. Michael shook his head, shaking against her. He began to apologize but she shushed him. “You have nothing to say to any of us here, Michael. You haven’t hurt us. It’s normal at your age for your powers to be out of control still, Goddess knows. It’s normal for a boy your age to want to find love in the older woman taking care of him,” she whispered to him only. “You are only held responsible, right now, for what you’ve said out loud. Your actions will speak for you later.”

“But I’m sorry,” he tried. “I’m so sorry for what I’ve done, what I’ve said. I never meant to harm anyone.”

Cordelia sighed, smiling to her girls as she visibly relaxed. “Why don’t we, why don’t we all get dinner together, okay? Let this sit a while. We can talk afterwards.”

“I should apologize to Miss Day. Before it’s too late between us,” Michael murmured. 

Cordelia nodded. She held her hand out for Zoe to take Michael to the greenhouse and he began to follow the member out to the kitchen.

He turned abruptly. “I don’t want to be like this, Miss Goode,” he murmured, eyes flashing. “I swear.”

She watched him for a moment, black eyes against blue, and nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me through the end, I appreciate you all!

**Author's Note:**

> First and foremost, thank you for reading this "comeback" piece. 
> 
> I haven't published since something like 2015. The tag was dead and since Misty and Cordelia had meant so much to me during a tough year, it was so hard writing about them when no one would appreciate anymore. Thanks to Apocalypse the girls are back and loved more than ever, and so I decided to give myself a new try in this fandom. They are my true OTP. 
> 
> So thank you immensely for reading, I appreciate you all! Please leave a comment or a kudos, so I know it's worth it to keep writing <3
> 
> (My earlier works are on fanfiction.net under the name "echofallsfromgrace")


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